


To The Infinity

by Anonymous



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Fragmented Memories, Gen, Seer!Thor, Self-Indulgent, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23837587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Visions started to hound her King in his sleep, night after night after night, warning of something is happening, but of what exactly they had no idea. There was no seer left on New Asgardia, none except her King, thus no one to discern and help with the Norns pestering Thor to act on the visions they sent. Added to the melancholy spells he had, his psyche worsened.Brunnhilde was lost. Thor started to hallucinate and said things that did not make any sense. So of course, when he said he saw her amongst the crowd during his late disrupted coronation, at first she thought it was just wistful thinking. Until a few nights later, when the dreams he had was so troubling it shook the weather around their settlement off the chart, draining what little magic he had left after days of fitful rest, she took it seriously.Of course, by then, she was already in the past.
Relationships: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Anonymous





	To The Infinity

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [bound, at the end of the world](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570834) by [bereft_of_frogs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereft_of_frogs/pseuds/bereft_of_frogs). 



> I’ve been out of this fandom after CA:CW and had no intention to go back until my sister strong-armed me to watch Ragnarok with her. Loved the movie, sad about it a day later, my feelings on it is complicated, okay? But it rekindled my love for the first Thor, resulted in a marathon spree and a deep annoyance of mine resurfacing. So here’s a fic of someone shooting Odin’s horrible, horrible plan in the vault down. But of course, because I hate myself, I made it in the most convoluting way possible instead of, I don’t know, Heimdall or Tyr or Frigga.  
> This is very self indulgent, which is ironic considering Odin’s own faulty logic, but hey, I do what I want. Comic Book Logic, Fanfiction Logic (that means not logical at all lol)

“I will be a different man,” her king — no, he was her friend, was he not? Grieving deeply, drowning in lost and stolen hope and still she could not help him, not like how he helped her, five years ago. Thor’s mismatched eyes were almost always hazy lately, full of drunkenness to numb everything, but now they were clear with pain and Brunnhilde wanted to yell at the Norns for being so unfair.

“—a boy, really,” he continued, gasping breath with pained hisses, “You would hate me, even more so than you hate me now.”

Brunnhilde grasped his hand, wanting to rebuke him. No, she did not hate him. At most, she was annoyed with him, wishing he could finally take his responsibility and the crown, even though she understood. Because she was there not too long ago and Thor had been the one who pulled her out. And was that not unfair? Thor had helped her then and now he was stuck on that hole, she tried and tried and — once again she cursed the universe, Thanos, the Avengers —  _ if only, if only, if only, _ the words kept repeating in her head.

Thor chuckled, it was bitter yet knowing. Those eyes were filled with more regrets than Brunnhilde had ever known. Which, considering the whole mess before they met, made her shudder in fear of what he saw in those visions of his. How much worse would they be, for Thor to be more afraid of them than the reality they lived in?

“I’m sorry, my friend,” he managed again, voice wavering as if it took all he had to continue to talk, “To let you walk this path alone again.”

And then the grip slackened, and she screamed with rawness she had not felt since aeons ago, this was not fair, not fair, not him too, not after all this time—

And as promised by the Norns themselves, by Thor’s prophetic visions (those useless, why could they not help her king instead of haunting his each wakes and dreams?), her vision wavered, like sudden ripples in quiet water, and mercifully turned black.

.

She woke up to the smell of various stages of decomposed trash stuck on her nose.

_ Sakaar, _ her mind supplied and the urge to finish the bottle in her hand was overwhelming. Bile rose to her throat, breath constricted, nevermind the fact her head was pounding like she just had a run-in with a bilgesnipe — or a hulk, that worked too.

_ Why was she here? _

No matter how much she asked herself, remembering what last thing Thor could say to her, it did not make any sense. She turned to her holo, checking the date before remembered Sakaar’s time was different from the outside world and hacked her way to the nearest planet’s time instead.

_ Was it all just something her brain made up in drunkenness? _

But it could not be, right?

She could not possibly imagine the Royal Princes visiting her, of Hulk, of Hela (she shuddered deeply that she stumbled over her table), or worse,  _ Thanos. _

No, her brain was a messed up place, but even she could not imagine the sheer madness of the Titan.

With the ease of muscle memory, a routine she had done for centuries and centuries before Thor had the gall to show his face in front of her and tried to reason to her responsible side — her sentimental side — if she was being honest, and Norns, was she tired of lying to herself.

She looked out her window at the uneven wall of the champions, where the Hulk’s face had yet graced the metal and remembered the stories Banner had told her about the Avengers — the fond tales  _ Thor _ had regaled to the  _ Statesman _ ’s occupants, much to Loki’s eternal disgust — and the deep, tired, and bitter part of her wanted to snap,  _ where were they when her King needed them? _

She shoved them away and started to plan.

.

She had no plan. None except the barest of one consisting of: find Thor.

It was enough of an objective, she could build them around it and the first thing to do was to get out of Sakaar.

Thor’s original idea had been brilliant: stole the disk fib, took a freighter, and went to the Devil’s Anus, fight a few on the way out, easy, but she also knew of another way — which she could only get because she was a Scrapper, and took off without being detected at all, far easier than having to fight her way out like it had been the first time.

She had a plane, rations, and fuel; making sure she had enough of them to go to Asgard and back, especially since the issue on fuel above the  _ Statesman _ had been a repeated nightmare until Thor, the idiot, who always sacrificed so much without a second thought, the damn noble-hearted bonehead had suggested he became their battery — their power source, of sorts — outside of the oftentimes faulty solar panel. It worked, but it also became the reason he had been too tired to defend their ship from Thanos. They should have stopped him before it had become so out of hand, especially since he also had been sleeping in the hydroponic room to help the plants grow.

Again, she pushed them away. Those memories were not needed right now  _ (too raw, too soon. She could still remember the warmth of Thor’s hand on her own). _

She had a coronation to save.

Loki had told her and Banner, covered in the darkness of the space in one of the rare times they had managed to cajole their new king to sleep and commiserating on the  _ oaf’s foolishness _ — Loki’s words were always a delight — that he had been the reason why Thor had not been named King until the fall of the Allfather, why Asgard had been in such a dire situation, of the dysfunctionality of the royal family, and Odin’s secrets having secrets and still Thor loved his father, despite knowing his mistakes and flaws.

So… coronation it was.

If only she knew what date it would come, everything would be golden.

But her only clues had been it was several years, maybe more than a decade ago, before this whole mess with the Norns visiting their King’s dreams and kept haunting him until the council demanded he was too unstable to rule, those early days in New Asgardia creation because he could not differentiate between reality and dreams no more. The melancholic spells hit even harder after that, with no responsibilities nor works he could distract himself with.

They had appointed Korg and Miek to jot down all of his spiels then, as Thor was the worst seer the Yggdrasil had ever seen who could not even remember what his vision was about. And if she was being honest, it was also to keep an eye to his more disastrous melancholy spells, where anger and grief had melded so seamlessly and it could rival the horrible visions haunting him.

Those trice damned Norns, meddling away when their tapestry did not go like it was supposed to be. Now when their only diviner was a half-baked seer who knew nothing about what he could do, which was also their King and the reason why this was so messy, they still did not care, as long as the knots got smoothed over, one way or another.

_ Focus, _ her mind reminded her, fisting her hands so tight until the pain from her nails anchored her, blinking through the tears of regret and missed opportunity, of the lost memories she would make with Thor, Hulk, and Banner or even Loki, of those children she helped raised no matter how difficult and reluctant she had been in the beginning, of the Asgardian refugees and their unparalleled stubbornness and vitality. 

If this was to spare her King’s pain, even a little bit, it was worth it.

_ Was it? _ her traitorous mind asked, Thor’s last expression still burnt fresh in her memory, those knowing gaze full of regret, tears would be falling if he still had any left to spare.

_ Sorry, _ Thor had said,  _ To let you walk this path alone again, _ and she had refused to acknowledge what it meant, because then the reality would be too much to bear, especially right now.

_ Was it worth it? Nobody familiar around you just to lessen her friend’s pain? _

And then flashes of the last few years warmed in her mind, of Thor trying and failing to rise from his bed, of the unending thunderstorms and rain and the haunted look in his used to be so bright eyes. But still, despite the nightmares the Norns sent him, the old Thor was still there, struggling to come out from time to time, and she owed it to him to at least try.

_ Who owed who? Don’t kid yourself, Brunnhilde, you owed that boy nothing. _

She squashed those thoughts away. No, she owed  _ Odin _ nothing. To Thor, her service was freely given.

_ At the very least, _ she thought, a bit glumly as her hatred and rage towards the crown was rekindling, she owed to the children she cared for so they had a chance with their parents, to not grow up as orphans.

.

She landed in the outer rim of the Yggdrasil’s branch, where Heimdall’s eyes were straining to see what was happening there, and before she bought an authorization to the Bifrost imitation the commoner used to go around Asgard and her Nine Realms when the news reached her: the Allfather had announced he would crown the Crown Prince in a fortnight, all Asgardians were invited to the hall, where feast would be served for nine days and nights to celebrate the occasion. 

She sighed, tilting her head up until all she could see was the stars. It was familiar, after months spent on voyaging above the  _ Statesman _ , and soothed down her fraying nerves.  _ So she had 7 days, huh. _

.

It was painful, to be in Asgard again. The planet itself was cleverly maintained and the air was fresh, not like the regulated one from her pod nor the sickening trashiness of Sakaar (or, her particularly nasty side whisper, the fishiness but cold air on New Asgardia). The artificial sky was the height of Asgard’s technology, to maintain their planet’s fallen core and still had its function as if how it once was. Idunn’s orchard could be seen even from afar, and the golden leaves of those trees really cemented why they call it the Golden Realm.

Norns, she missed being drunk.

Feeling drained, yet wanting to avoid the bars as far as she could — no need to tempt the urge — she headed to the Capital City. Hopefully, she would not meet with familiar faces and straining her so-called sanity even more.

It was naught wishful thinking.

“Friends!” the familiar voice boomed, loud and cheerful and so different compared to the tired one she was used to. So full of life, unburdened, even compared to the stubborn yet chipper man the first time they met, drunk deep to her gills, could not even walk a straight line, and she had been annoyed by the sunshine in his voice. How could he sound like that?

“Let’s enjoy the success of today’s hunt!” Thor continued and loud cheers erupted from all over the place.

_ Ah, he was so loved by those around him, _ she mused, her chest felt tight and eyes stung. It dawned on her then, the Thor she knew would never exist anymore. Those friends and responsibilities she had shouldered would be no more. Five years of companionship full of pain and joy just poofed out of existence, now remaining only in her head and the marks of correction on the long tapestry of the Norns.

_ I’m sorry, _ Thor had said, eyes clear in what seemed like centuries, crystal blue like the sky, yet also deep like the sea, knowing and full of regret, like he would happily shoulder that burden so she did not have to. As if he wished he could accompany her so it could lessen the pain. His hand was warm, grounding, like he knew that grounded feeling would help her in this journey of hers.

Maybe he was getting better at interpreting those dreams of his after all.

She could not bear it. Not ever, but especially not today.

She still had time before that damned coronation, so she rented a room and be done with the day and hoped tomorrow would be easier to handle.

.

Morn came around and she was greeted by the bright sun like force outside the window.

She should wake, should continue her journey to the Golden City, should meet with Thor and get to know this version of him — it would be hilarious to know how much of a brat he was compared to the older him.

_ Should, should, should, _ rang in her head but she did not want to move. She wanted to get drunk, to forget,  _ again, _ because the loss this time had ripped her rigged heart to pieces and she did not know how to mend them. Even the last time it was Thor who pulled her out with his acceptance and easy friendship, of understanding and a shoulder to lean on, of taking care of each other because they sucked at basic self-care.

Thoughts swam in her head: regret, grief, pain.

She did not know how long she was stuck there until she was startled out of it by polite knocks on her door, a remainder she rented the room for one night only. 

Finally, she rose from the bed, took a deep breath, and got ready to face a new reality.

After all this, she would visit the root of Yggdrasil herself just to punch those Norns in the face. Just you see.

.

Like all plans she made lately, not that she had much of one, right now, the only objective was to make sure the coronation went on smoothly, as ordered by the three Fates themselves… Or was it? Thor was terrible at discerning what he saw and while she did get stuck here, was the coronation that important in the grand scheme of things? Especially compared to Hela? Or Thanos? She could not even remember if Thor had said anything about saving this damn coronation except she was seen there, amongst the crowds.

She was deep in her thoughts that she did not realize her old-future-not yet friend was watching her in concern, surrounded by all his friends.

Bravely, he tapped her shoulder, worry written on his face like an old worn tunic, out of place because he hid it well, buried under the arrogance and the strong front he had projected for others, “Are you alright, my Lady?”

She turned to face him and his eyes widened, blue orbs so clear it was almost transparent — wait, that was not right.

“You…” he uttered, blinking rapidly complete with glassy eyes, like he was seeing things not in front of him, like him during his visions. But Thor had said his power developed late, someone called the Scarlet Witch had messed with his head and while it was not far in the future, it was not exactly  _ then. _

His next word was so warm and strained and she could cry hearing her name with such familiarity, “Val…?”

Brunnhilde quickly grabbed him as the eyes rolled back, his body went slack and that was not what she expected at seeing him. “Thor!”

All of a sudden she was surrounded by Thor’s friends and guards, “Move back!” the girl ordered, sword drawn and ready, “What did you do to him?!”

“Sif, calm down,” said the bigger one, “You watched their interaction yourself, she did not do anything. She doesn’t even have the time to, and it’s our Prince who approached her first.”

The tallest one quickly checked Thor’s eyes before going for his pulse, “Is the food poisoned?"

“No, we ate the same thing, if that was true, we would all be down the same.”

The only girl, Sif, growled, eyes glaring at everything and anything, “If I found out you had anything to do with this, the Allfather himself would execute you.”

At the sound of that name, Brunnhilde glared back, but she was the most unconcerned one between the five of them, and they were every bit foolish as Loki had said. “Shouldn’t you all be on your way to the healer right now?”

The dark-haired one paled, quickly looked at the sky and yelled, “Heimdall!”

_ Odin’s Beard! _ She had not even had any time to move before the Bifrost enveloped them.

.

“Brunnhilde,” the Gatekeeper greeted her after a whirlwind of Einharjar later and somehow, she was left alone in the Observatory with him, “It is good to see you.”

“Is it?” she asked, keeping the venom at the minimum as best as she could.

Norns, all the memories were rushing in her mind like the dam just broke. The worst thing was, they were all good memories, the days she had spent with her comrades as the Valkyries, her childhood, those hundreds and hundreds of years worth of them and she felt like drowning.

Not to add, her main reason was just destroyed. She had held her head high and did not break down because she had fooled herself to think Thor’s pain would be lessened, that the disaster she would prevent was well worth her pain.

Who was she kidding?

She was too good at denial.

She could not even be surprised anymore when a servant said she was summoned by the King.

“That bastard is not my King,” she spat instead, fury licked her feet like an old friend, and the servant looked at taken aback and worriedly glanced at Heimdall.

The Gatekeeper sighed, “Brunnhilde.”

Her hand twitched, wishing for a drink or two or a weapon she did not know.

“That old coot can stuff his pretentious speech to himself and fuck off. I am here because of that golden-haired idiot and I am his loyal subject no more.”

Heimdall sighed and waved the messenger away, calmly maneuvered her to sit and pointed her trembling legs when she glared at him.

“What troubles you, old friend?” he asked, voice full of wisdom and understanding. It irked her, even though he did not mean it to be condescending it sure felt that way. Heimdall was the oldest Aesir, even older than Odin, and if the tales could be believed, he had served Asgard since her creation.

Brunnhilde stared at the horizon, purposefully avoiding that golden gaze of Heimdall. She knew, objectively, that he could not read another’s thoughts, but sometimes it felt he could and she did not want to deal with that right now.

They both sat down on the corner of the stairs, basking in the silence. Making up her mind, she asked, “Do you know how it feels to return to this place? After  _ he _ ordered that massacre? Knowing she sacrificed her life so I lived?”

Heimdall’s gaze bore into her, as always, unjudging. He was probably the only one who equipped to be someone Midgardian called a therapist in their realm. “And how does it feel?”

“Like coming home,” she answered, laughing bitterly. Every corner she turned to, she could remember a time when she was with her, with her shield-maidens, training, chatting, teasing. All the good memories rushed to the forefront of her mind and it dug the scars deeper, like cutting through a healed wound, again and again, yet it was so familiar she wanted to destroy it all even though it was the only thing left she had of them.

“How do you deal with all of this?” she choked out, eyes burnt but no tears flowing down her cheek. There was a traitorous hope blooming inside her, set ablaze as Thor uttered her nickname, at the very same time it also crushed her, and she did not know what to do with these conflicting feelings except to drown them with alcohol.

Heimdall sighed, soft and knowing, like her King often did when she was being particularly obtuse, back above the  _ Statesman, _ like the past-future Heimdall did when their King asked questions he already knew the answers, like she did when her old comrades when they teased her.

“We have a different set of burden, you and I,” he said, “Yours is to be in the front, taking charge, and when you fail, you feel deeply of every one of them. Mine is to stand back and watch. I am the Gatekeeper, Asgard’s Watcher, and it’s a responsibility I could not place to another.”

_ And there lay the answer, _ she mused, tongue heavy like lead.

“Come,” he instructed, “The Allfather is waiting.”

With a deep exhale, Brunnhilde rose, she had a responsibility to hold to. One she could not push to another.

**Author's Note:**

> This is supposed to be a one-shot, plot happens. I have a bit of a love-hate relationship to Marvel, so updates would be... sporadic. Thank you for reading!


End file.
